Happy New Year! Another year has flown by and I spent the first week of January laying out plans for Crystaline Randazzo Photography for 2017.

I spent lots of time last year thinking about how I could create moving stories for my clients. I began incorporating story design into my work. This started by establishing a process to help my clients identify their long-term goals, their specific audience, and what stories had the best visual components. Not to toot my horn too much, but this thinking led to some pretty amazing storytelling.

This year I’ll continue doing strategic communications consulting and media making in Nepal. I’m working on a new project in education and I can’t wait to share what we create. I’ll also share a series of posts here on how your nonprofit can tell better stories.

In the process, you may see some posts that were originally posted at NGOStorytelling.com, a site that exists to inspire and inform humanitarian storytellers. I co-edit that space with my friend and collaborator Laura Pohl. It’s where we geek out about media and storytelling for nonprofits. I blog there monthly, and I hope you’ll check it out.

I do one pro bono project each year for a nonprofit organization that I love. It’s really rewarding to give back to my community. But this year, I won’t be doing any free work. Instead, I’m working on a personal project that’s close to my heart. It’s the first time I’ve designated time for this kind of thing. I’m excited (and nervous) to try something completely new.

I’ve been building my freelance business since 2010. When I started this business, I just wanted to make beautiful photographs. But over time I learned that being a media maker isn’t enough for me. I don’t want to photograph trainings or conferences. I want to capture the impact of the important work that nonprofits do. I want to spend time with the people who share their lives in my films. And I want the media I create to connect with donors on an emotional level.

It feels important for me to hold space for these stories. Over the years many things have changed for me – and I don’t know what will shift this year – but I’m excited to get out there, find amazing stories, and share them with the world.

As my first year in Nepal draws to an end I’m feeling nostalgic about all that I saw and did this year. Nepal is an incredible place and it’s not hard to see why so many people are drawn to its magic. I spent 2016 wandering its streets, trying to make sense of all I’ve seen with my camera.

I thought it would be appropriate to end my year of story by choosing twelve stories (one for each month) that have left the greatest impression on me since my arrival. Some cover work that I did, many opened a door for me to learn more about culture and religion, and some I stumbled across by accident. Regardless of how these experiences happened, I’m grateful to live in a place that has such an abundance of culture, faith, and truly kind people.

Maha Shivaratri

Maha Shivaratri is a Hindu festival celebrated annually in honor of the god Shiva. It symbolizes overcoming darkness and ignorance in life and the world.

I participated in this festival with a local Nepali photographer who had been photographing it for several years. His relationship with the sadhus (Hindu holy men) makes it possible for me to take this spectacular image.

These three sadhus can be found in the first shrine on the corner across from Pashupati temple on any given day in Kathmandu. I once witnessed them forcibly boot out a visiting sadhu who had unfortunately chosen to set up shop in their designated spot. Their relationship with each other draws me back to the Pashupati.

Madhav Narayan

Madhav Narayan is a festival and one of the most difficult rituals practiced by Hindus in Nepal. Devotees undertake a month-long fast, walk barefoot in the cold winter mornings, and take a chilly, holy bath in the Hanuman River by the early light of day.

Around me, women loosen their hair and prepare their offerings before entering the freezing water. They disregard the trash that floats up around them and rinse their entire body, including their mouths. Many light candles at the water's edge and chants fill the air.

Samyak Festival

Samyak Festival is held once every four years by the Newar Buddhists of Kathmandu. They preserve the Vajrayana tradition (one of three ways to enlightenment). Over a hundred statues are brought from all over Nepal so they can be worshiped simultaneously.

Seto Machindranath Temple. Kathmandu, Nepal

Seto Machindranath, also known as Janabaha Dyo, is a deity worshiped by both Hindus and Buddhists. This temple is believed to have been established around the 10th century. Each year, the deity’s image is placed in a chariot and paraded around Kathmandu.

This was the first temple that I photographed in Kathmandu. The outside of the temple is intricately designed with beautiful metalwork and in the morning light streams in from the left side of the temple and glistens on the golden walls.

The temple is surrounded by pigeons, and worshipers feed them daily. The belief is that if you show compassion to another living being, you will bring good fortune to your life. It is my favorite temple to photograph in Nepal.

The Boy Monks from Dohla

Over the last year, I’ve built a relationship with a Tamang community that was displaced after the earthquake and one of the nonprofits that is helping them. Their homes and livelihoods were destroyed and there was no hope of rebuilding. The community has been living in tents for over a year. Their lives are far from easy, which is why I joined a project supporting them in building new houses in a new location.

I photographed a group of children from this community who left their homes to join the Ka-Nying Shedrub Ling Monastery. They are between six and ten years old.

For some, joining means a roof over their head, food on the table, and education. For others, it is an honor to their devout family to have a Buddhist monk in the family. Almost every family from Dohla has sent at least one of their children. One monk tells me he joined at 14 because he knew it was the right thing for him. I don’t know why these children are joining today, but I am grateful to be present for a small part of their journey.

Moti Maya

Moti Maya was only seventeen when she experienced her first earthquake­ – an 8.4 magnitude shock that struck Nepal on January 15th, 1934. Eighty-one years later her home was destroyed by another massive quake that also killed four people in her small village. After two months of living in the destruction with very little food, Maya Moti left everything she knew and went by helicopter to start a new life in Dhola with fifty five other families from her community.

She spent the last year living in a tent, but remains in good spirits. She finds all these changes in her life exciting and says nothing remains for her family in her old village. She expects she will die soon but is pleased that her daughter, son, and grandchildren will soon have a safe home to live in. Moti Maya’s wish is that her community will live in harmony while undertaking their project of building their 55 homes.

The community of Dohla is in the final stages of building their homes. The members of the community have worked daily with support from Shenpen to rebuild their homes. They have been homeless for two years. They need your help to finish the project.

Mother Maya

The community of Dohla is in the final stages of building their homes. The members of the community have worked daily with Maya Tamang is 32 years old. Before the earthquake she had never carried rocks, sand, or rods. She didn't know about building houses. But she has learned to do all these things and take care of three children on her own.

On the day of the earthquake she was working on the ridge of the mountain. She rushed home after the shaking. Her house was gone and her children were terrified. Her husband never came home that day, and they never found his body. He had gone into the forest to collect wood; the entire area was covered in landslide.

She stayed in her old home for over a month before she was moved to Dhola with 55 other families. She is doing outdoor work for the first time in her life. She cooks, gather woods, and water. It is very difficult, but she is happy to be part of the community effort to rebuild their homes. As of December, she and and her children will have been homeless for over two years.

support from Shenpen to rebuild their homes. They have been homeless for two years. They need your help to finish the project.

Pashupatinath Temple. Kathmandu, Nepal.

Pashupatinath is a famous, and sacred temple located on the banks of the Bagmati River. It is considered one of the most sacred temples of the Hindu faith. The temple serves as the seat of the national diety, Lord Shiva. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Pashupatinath is a sacred place for Hindus to be cremated and open air cremation takes place daily. The eldest son of the deceased shaves his head and completes the burial rites.

The banks of the river are lined with ghats (bathing spots) for use by pilgrims. Arya Ghat is of special importance because it is the only place where holy water for Pashupatinath Temple can be obtained and is where members of the royal family are cremated. The main cremation site (pictured here) is Bhasmeshvar Ghat.

Ride Bicycles Not Elephants: Chitwan Nepal

I spent July 4 celebrating not only the independence of America but also Tiger Tops, the first lodge to allow their elephants to go chain free and eliminate the practice of elephant rides.

The process of obtaining and training elephants for elephant rides is truly terrible, and their lives after they’ve been trained aren’t much better. Tourists who choose to ride elephants help promote unethical practices and mistreatment of elephants.

So when the opportunity came to go to Tiger Tops and support their efforts in ethical tourism, I was all in. I wasn’t disappointed. While we didn’t ride the elephants, we spent time with them as they took their baths and walked through the jungle with them while they ate. We also visited them in their specious, chain-free enclosures.

This year, I’ve had several opportunities to put my tourism dollars towards organizations that are doing good in the world. And I believe that post-earthquake Nepal needs tourism more than ever. Tourism provides jobs and opportunities to advocate for people and creatures alike. Search out the right opportunities, and you can make some change in the world.

Bali

I’ve been dreaming of going to Bali since I first watched Eat, Pray, Love in college. This year for our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband and I flew there to spend ten days in the beach and the jungle.

These types of adventures make me grateful for the transient life that we chose. I will never forget this trip and I’ll be forever grateful for a partner who values experience the way I do.

Fishtail. Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal.

This year, Dashain, the holiest festival of the year in Nepal, coincided with my 34th birthday. My husband proposed that we start my newly minted year off with some adventure: eight days of trekking to the foot of Annapurna I, the 10th tallest mountain in the world.

On our fourth morning, we got up before dawn to hike from the base camp of the holy mountain Machhapuchhre to our final stop at Annapurna Base Camp. In our final ascent we ended up at about 13,500 feet, far short of the 26,545 foot peak. But from our vantage point we were on top of the world! As we walked on the path through the dark, stars twinkled around Annapurna I, and then the sun crept over the mountains to take our breath away.

Along the way we met people from all over the world. Our fellow adventurers were Nepali, American, British, Dutch, Swiss, etc. People of every age are drawn to this magnificent hike. At one point, we were told by an intrepid hiker, “I’m seventy seven years old, what’s a few more hundred stairs?” I hope that I can apply his philosophy throughout my life. You’re never too old for another adventure.

Boudhanath

Boudhanath is an ancient Buddhist stupa and one of the largest in the world. I’ve been documenting the site on a monthly basis since my arrival and am struck by both the serenity of the place and a feeling of constant motion.

The first piece of advice I was given about Boudha was never walk counter clockwise around the stupa. This Buddhist practice known as circumambulation. Circumambulation is the act of walking clockwise meditatively around an object of veneration-three times or more as a gesture of respect. Doing so reminds Buddhists to keep the Buddha’s teachings in the center of their lives.

The stupa was damaged significantly during the earthquakes of 2015. The temple was rebuilt this year by a team of volunteers and workers. It was incredible to document the devotion to this sacred space.

Thank you all for coming along for the journey and following my work. I look forward to 2017 and all it brings. May you have a wonderful holiday season!

I can’t believe that I am eight months into the year of story! It’s been amazing journey and I can feel my approach to storytelling changing in small but profound ways. Sometimes changing your approach is uncomfortable. It makes you ask questions that you’d never considered and challenges you to do things differently.

I’ve read dozens of books, spent countless hours in online courses, and done some serious digging into the storytelling community. So I wanted to share some of my favorite discoveries from this journey. I hope that they will help you in your storytelling journey.

Power Your Podcast Storytelling by Alex Blumberg on Creative Live

I don’t have a podcast, but this is the best course I have ever purchased on Creativelive. Alex is the master of the interview and gives very specific instruction on how to create and direct a good interview. Then he helps you craft powerful stories. Prepare to have your sock blown of! He has single handedly changed that way that I interview for multimedia pieces.

The Storytelling Nonprofit: A Practical Guide to Telling Stories That Raise Money and Awareness by Vanessa Chase Lockshin

I have followed Vanessa’s blog for the last year and took an online course she offered. I got to meet her at the Nonprofit Storytelling Conference in 2015 so I expect this post makes me an official fan girl. Her book primarily focuses on writing good stories for fundraising and donor retention. But fear not, visual storytellers, there’s plenty of solid information that we can apply to the stories we create. I often refer back to her story structure formula: Connection, Character, Conflict, Resolution, and Call 2 Action. This is invaluable when I am editing a story together.

Shameless self-promotion alert! I did an amazing interview with Kate Lord for NGOStorytelling that was a major light bulb moment in my storytelling journey. In the interview, Kate talks about her process of inclusive editing. She works with beneficiaries throughout the editing process to make sure they are comfortable with the way the story is being told. I realized that most of the stories that I created had zero input from the beneficiaries after the shoot. I can’t wait to start collaborating with beneficiaries to tell the stories that they want to share. This just goes to show that no matter how long you’ve been telling stories you always have something more to learn.

The Living Brave Semester by Brené Brown

This probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me well, but when I learned that Brené Brown was going to be offering an online course, I couldn’t sign up fast enough. This course is based on her books Rising Strong & Daring Greatly and it might seem like a strange choice in the line up storytelling resources. But I believe that in order to engage in honest storytelling, you need to be in touch with your own story. Brené started me on a journey of self discovery that has allowed me to be a more vulnerable person who holds sacred space for the people who wish to share their story with me. And she’s going to start the second round of this course in January 2017!

Ira Glass On Storytelling

My favorite discovery on this journey is a four part video series by Ira Glass. You’ll probably remember that I wrote a post on the first video of his series. But he has three more that are absolutely inspirational. Every aspiring artists should watch these and be inspired by his words.

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is a gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quite. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume o work that you will close the gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve every met. It’s going to take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You just gotta fight your way through it.”

This series gave me such hope about what is possible with my work if I just keep producing. So if your discouraged or unsure if you should move forward. Watch it and be inspired!

In February my husband and I went to a Joss Stone concert in Kathmandu. I hadn’t heard her songs in years. What were the odds of her being in Nepal? Regardless, she came and we went. The concert included a pre-music dinner. And while we were eating a nice couple from Montreal asked if they could join our table. We agreed. At the time I didn't know that Joss Stone was going to pave the way for me to do great work for an amazing cause.

I learned that Mélanie is the director for ShenPen, a Buddhist organization that has a large number of projects for a small but mighty nonprofit. Over dinner, she told me about a Tamang community that had been displaced from their village after the earthquakes of 2015. I learned that the community was working tirelessly without pay to build a set of 55 homes on a piece of donated land. Shenpen was supporting them by providing materials, transport, and the support of engineers and architects. The nonprofit was starting a fundraising campaign to try to finish the project and needed someone to help them with storytelling.

Moti Maya was only seventeen when she experienced her first earthquake¬, an 8.4M shock that struck Nepal on January 15, 1934. Eighty-one years later, her home was destroyed by the recent massive quake in 2015 that also killed four people in her small village. After two months of living in the destruction with very little food, Maya Moti left everything she knew and went by helicopter to start a new life in Dhola.

She spent the last year living in a tent, but her spirit remains strong and positive. While she confirms that nothing remains for her family in their old village, she finds all these changes in her life exciting. She expects she will die soon but is pleased that her daughter, son, and grandchildren will now have a safe place to call home in Dhola.

Moti Maya’s wish is that her community will live in harmony while undertaking their project of building their fifty-five new homes.

I was still trying to get permission to work in Nepal. This project landing in my lap seemed like exactly the kind of thing I should put my energy toward until I got my paperwork settled. I decided that the Build Homes, Heal Hearts campaign would be a good fit for a pro bono project.

I traveled with Mélanie to Dhola. I met the entire community. I interviewed single mothers, carpenters, monks, and a resident who was over ninety years old. I slept in a tent and ate the food that they carefully prepared. It seemed that very little in their life had improved. It's been over a year since the earthquakes but most of the world has forgotten about Nepal. I was witness to a community trying to do one thing– survive.

My name is Maya Tamang and I am 32 years. Before the earthquake, I had never carried rocks, sand, or rods. I did not know about building houses. But I have learned to do all of those things and take care three children on my own.

On the day of the earthquake, I was working on the ridge of the mountain. I rushed home after the shaking. My house was gone and my children were terrified. My husband never came home that day, and we never found his body. He had gone into the forest to collect wood, the entire area was covered in landslide.

I stayed in my old home for over a month before I was moved to Dhola. I am doing outdoor work for the first time in my life. I cook, gather wood, and water. It is very difficult. But I am happy to be part of the collective effort to build our homes. I hope that once we have a house my children and I will be settled.

After we have a home, I will have time to knit and make sweaters to sell so I can make a living. I hope my children will do well in school and do much with their minds.

Since that visit, Shenpen and I have worked together to create videos, written stories, photos, and social media posts to share the stories of Dhola with the world. I’d like to ask you to check out the campaign on facebook. If you’re inspired and want to do something that helps this community­– donate here. If you can't donate please post a link to this blog on your social media accounts so we can share this story with the world.

I’m so thankful that I had this opportunity to learn more about Nepal and to meet the community of Dhola. I can't help but want to do as much as possible to help them. It seems to me that shelter should be a basic human right. I'd be grateful if you could do what you can to help the community of Dhola.

I cried during Michelle Obama’s speech at the Democratic National Convention. Her words were brought home to me that Hillary and any woman after her can be President of the United States of America. They say that children can’t be what they don’t see. And I rarely saw women in politics growing up. But that story changed for women around the world this week.

I remember the first time I ever voted. I was six. My teacher explained to us that there was a presidential election going on, and we were going to vote for who our class thought should be president. She gave us a flyer with a picture of George H.W. Bush and Michael Dukakis. We circled the picture of who we thought should be president.

Image used from https://www.hillaryclinton.com/bio/

I decided H.W. looked nice, and a bit like my grandpa and that sealed my vote. I didn’t understand a thing about politics. It wasn’t a subject that was ever discussed in my house when I was growing up. I floated through the 1992 and the 1996 elections with barely a thought. Though I vaguely remember my mom going to the firehouse across the street to cast her vote.

I had just turned eighteen in 2000. And I voted for George W. Bush. Frankly, it wasn’t too different from my circling the picture of the man who looked nicest. I voted for him because I lived in New Mexico and he was the popular choice. In 2004, I voted the same way for the same reasons though this time I was in Texas.

I was becoming vaguely aware of politics. My roommate was a political science major, and I remember being surprised that she had such passion and interest in politics. At that point in my life, it never occurred to me that a woman could have political aspirations, much less become president.

Image used from https://www.hillaryclinton.com/post/10-little-girls-who-are-ready-first-woman-president/

I felt excited and informed about the election in 2008. I watched the presidential debates with my boyfriend, and we went and voted together. I voted for Obama. And I understood why I had voted for the first time in my life. It was an incredibly empowering experience.

I grew up in a world where politics were mostly a man’s world. I can count on one hand the number of women I saw in politics. I also grew up in a place where you never brought up politics or religion at the dinner. And as a young girl, I absorbed a story that said women only play a supporting role in politics.

I was surprised by my emotional outburst this week and the joy I felt seeing powerful women take and command the stage. I heard their message loud and clear. Women have a place in politics. Hilary is running, and now every girl can image herself behind that desk in the Oval office. That is a powerful change in the narrative for every girl in America. And today Hillary’s story has changed my own.

I recently realized that anyone who has been a storyteller for any period of time forms a fallback position: a place we go, a formula we use, a method we apply when we simply don’t want to dig deeper or don’t have the tools at our disposal that we would like to use.

It’s something most of us don’t want to talk about, or in my case may not even be aware of, until the right situation presents itself. So there I was at workshop in Nepal on visualizing social stories. And the instructor looked right at me and tossed my way a word so insulting that it rendered me speechless.

Traditional. That’s what he called my edit of a photo project. And I didn’t like that at all. Not one bit. It’s like the creative kiss of death. And that word followed me around for the rest of the day.

It certainly did the trick in motivating me to stay as far away as possible from traditional in the next two days of workshop. I was so afraid of it that I passed on using my camera and stuck solely to iPhone photography and compilation footage from Youtube in order to force myself out of the space I knew. And frankly some of the stuff I made with my team was the opposite of traditional.

I left the workshop feeling good about what I had learned. I came home with a hefty edit ahead of me – a video of a fundraising campaign. And I did what I always do. I laid down the audio track and took a listen. Then I went back to the other materials I had created for the campaign to compare notes.

Guess what word started rolling around in my head? Traditional! It returned to haunt me. The first video I made in the series is technically sound. It tells the story. It has beautiful, compelling footage. But, I had edited it in a patently traditional way. First, use a hook to entice people to keep listening; then introduce the person, show the problem, and ask for action.

Part of the reason I started the year of story and was in this workshop in the first place is because I want to tell nonprofit stories in a different way. And understanding that I was falling back on a formula gave me a swift kick in the tail and sent me back to the editing drawing board. I sat down with the audio edit and stripped away anything that wasn’t emotionally compelling. I spent some time finding music that hit the right mix of urgency and still felt somewhat uplifting. I sifted through folders of existing images looking for the ones that struck the right note. And I found a way to tell the story that was outside of my fallback position. The story was better for it, and so was I.

Maybe the most important part of this story is that I figured out my own fall back position. It wasn’t until someone threw an insult my way that I even thought to question the way I was telling stories. Our first instincts as storytellers are not necessarily bad, but all of us can dig deeper. The next time you start to tell a story take a look at your fallback position, eliminate it as an option, and see how your story shifts.

Two weeks ago, I photographed a group of children who left their homes to join the monastery. They are between six and ten years old.

Over the last few months, I’ve begun building a relationship with a Tamang community that was displaced after the earthquake and one of the nonprofits that is helping them. Their homes and livelihoods were destroyed and there was no hope of rebuilding. The community has been living in tents for over a year and the monsoon season is coming. Their lives are far from easy, which is why I joined a project supporting them in building new houses.

I want to better understand why such young children are joining the monastery. I try to keep my own judgments at bay. I ask a lot of questions and I learn that there are a variety of reasons that children come to the monastery. For some, it means a roof over their head, food on the table, and education. For others, it is truly an honor to their devout families to have a Buddhist monk in the family. I realize that almost every family in the community has sent at least one child. There are also more nefarious reasons that drive children from their communities. In many rural communities, child trafficking has increased since the earthquake and families may feel that the monastery is simply a safer place for their children. One monk tells me that he joined at 14 because he knew it was the right thing for him. I honestly don’t know why these children are joining today, but I am grateful to be present for a small part of their journey.

The boys unload off the bus. They walk into the monastery with khatas tied around their neck, uncertainty on their faces, and their parents by their side. They line up for a group photo and sweetly greet the camera with a namaste. Then they rush over each other to get to lunch.

Afterwards the monks lead them down a set of steps to the water pump. Here they will have their heads shaved for the first time. They rinse and shampoo their hair and wait in line for an free monk, razor in hand. The older monks meticulously shave all but one small bit of hair, leaving this final, holy task to lama Chokyi Nyima Rinpoche. He will remove that last bit of hair when the boy Monks take their initial vows.

As I photograph this small part of their ceremony I sense the comradery between them. One boy assists his friend whose arm is in a cast with removing his t-shirt. A mother gently wipes water from her six-year-old’s shoulder. While the boys are leaving the home and the life they know, they are doing it as a part of their community. I gather them together for one last – and this time hairless – group shot.

A few days later I see them in their red monks’ robes ­– the boys from Dohla, still hanging together.

The last half-mile of our climb was a straight uphill climb. I was hot and sweating profusely. A cold beer had never tasted better. As it hit my lips, I wondered who had carried the heavy glass beverages up the mountain, accessible only by steep, uneven stone steps.

Over drinks our trekking guide Muna shared her story. She left school at 13, became the child bride of a man who was seven years older, and shortly thereafter gave birth to a daughter. When she was 15, she begged her mother to allow her to return home because of her husband’s abuse. Feeling lucky that her mother allowed her to return, she was unprepared when a few months later her husband took her daughter away from her. It was ten years before she would see her daughter again.

Three Sister's guide Muna (in red) and my assistant guide Tukashi leading our team of three women on the Annapurna trail.

She describes the years between the loss of her child and finding work as a guide as extremely difficult. She worked in a rock quarry for a number of years, crushing larger rocks into small pieces for construction with her bare hands. It was grueling manual labor. Eventually someone told her about a training program for young women to become trekking guides. Trekking is a lucrative occupation in Nepal, but the majority of guides are men.

Muna often wondered why so many foreigners wanted to climb mountains prior to becoming a guide but it is clear that hiking through the mountains brings her great joy. Through Three Sisters Adventure Trekking, Muna went through 18 months of trekking guide training and now leads treks monthly in Nepal. Three Sister’s provided Muna with an opportunity that simply wouldn’t have been available.

Three Sisters was found by Lucky, Dicky, and Nicky Chhetri, Nepali sisters and pioneers in the field of female trekking guides. In 1993, they were running a restaurant and a lodge in Pokhara, where they met women from all over the world. Many of their clients complained of negative experiences with their male guides. So the sisters decided to do something about it.

It turns out that their work has helped both women trekkers and Nepali women. In 1994, they created a training program to teach local women the necessary skills for trekking and guiding. Since then, close to 2,000 women from all over Nepal have completed the training. Many have become full-time guides or assistant guides.

Over my short three-day trek, our guide and assistant guides – Muna , Punam, and Tukashi – were stopped multiple times by women in the rural areas in which we hiked. It was clear the women respected what they were doing and wanted to get more information on how they could get involved. I felt like we were with rock stars in the countryside of Nepal. Women young and old would excitedly greet our guides and ask them where we were heading. It was obvious that these women were leading the charge of change in their communities.

Our assistant guide Punam showing us how to handle heat on the trail.

This experience showed me that one of the best things we can do to help Nepal recover from the devastating earthquake a year ago is to put our dollars into tourism so that its people can earn a living and rebuild their lives. I was so touched by the stories our guides shared with us along our journey, and I share the enthusiasm of the women that we met along the trail. The way to help the woman of Nepal is provide them opportunity and hope. If you'd like to help visit Three Sister Adventure Trekking's website and sign up for a trek or make a donation to their nonprofit, Empowering Women of Nepal and help women in Nepal become self-supportive and independent.

For the first time in a long while, I am completely intimidated. All around me are sadhus, Hindu holy men, who are trying to get me to take their picture. It’s like reverse paparazzi. Who knew that people wanting me to take their picture would become a problem for me in Nepal? Or that holy men would be this aggressive? They want me to take their photo so they can demand payment. I don’t know where to point my camera. I’ve been a photographer for fifteen years, yet am as nervous as the first day I picked up my camera.

I’ve come the day before Shivaratri, a Hindu festival celebrated annually in reverence of the god Shiva, in the hopes that I will catch the sadhus preparing for the ceremonies. As a non-Hindu, I’m not permitted to enter Pashupatianath Temple. This temple is considered one of the sacred temples of the Hindu faith. So, I shoot from outside, the sadhus’ dressing room.

I’m in luck. Several sahdus begin their preparations by covering themselves in ash, some taking several hours to paint their bodies. There is a wide array of dress (or in some cases undress) and makeup, but each sadhu has his own theme.

In honor of the ceremony, the Nepali government temporarily permits cannabis as a religious ritual. My eyes water as I look across the smoke-filled courtyard. The sadhus are huddled in small groupings as far the eye can see. Most walked from India in order to worship Lord Shiva in this holy space. The sadhus take full advantage, and I hope the contact high doesn’t ruin my ability to shoot.

The sadhus make their living off being photographed, and it’s standard practice to pay them about 50 rupees after you’ve taken their picture. Some of the holier men require more. You can run into sadhus in almost every temple you go to in Kathmandu. Up to this point I have avoided photographing them as I rarely pay those who I photograph. But today, in honor of Shiva and the pure feast of photographs at my disposal, I break my own rules.

This piece was originally written for www.ngostorytelling.com where my friend Laura Pohl and I share our stories, skills for nonprofit communicators, and nonprofit jobs around the world. I thought it was an important part of my journey this year to learn more about storytelling and wanted to share it with you.

After the earthquake, I put my camera down and I didn’t know if I’d pick it up again. I had spent years and many thousands of dollars becoming a photographer and none of it mattered to me. I had recently married to an American diplomat and was living with him in Haiti when the earthquake struck. I passed the days after assisting in the disaster relief in whatever way I could: cleaning toilets at the embassy, tracking down diapers and baby formula, cooking for more than twenty exhausted embassy employees who paused at my home for a quick bite and some shut eye before heading back to work. I put all my energy into helping Americans leave Haiti and tried not to think about the devastation I’d seen outside of the embassy walls.

I remember getting an email that said, “The photos you will take from this experience will make your career.” The photos I eventually made in Haiti did not “make” my career, but they started me down a path that changed the way I saw photography and development. I didn’t know it then but my choices in the weeks after the earthquake gave me some important clues about the work I should be doing. I learned that I was not capable of picking up my camera when life and death was on the line. I learned I was more humanitarian than photojournalist.

This is my story, and one I am only just beginning to share. I’d always thought of my reasons for joining this line of work as personal. Besides, why would anyone care? But last week while attending The Storytelling Nonprofit Virtual Conference, I was confronted with the idea that our individual stories hold power. I tend to think of stories from a nonprofit’s point of view, so it was an aha! moment to realize that every single person connected with an organization has experiences worth sharing. And I am one of those people as well– my story is also important. But more importantly, understanding my story allows me connect with the stories of others. We are all influenced by stories and each of we can influence others through our personal stories.

After the earthquake, I eventually returned to my camera. I took my first workshop on photographing for nonprofits. I flew from Port-au-Prince to Uganda. I was recovering from an earthquake. Uganda was recovering from war. This trip was the best therapy I could’ve done for myself. I worked with organizations that were helping people by providing food, education, and women’s empowerment. My photos were helping contribute to the greater good and I felt something that I hadn’t felt in many months: hope. I returned to Haiti and did several projects with local nonprofits supporting those affected by the earthquake.

You already know what came next. I’m still a photographer today. I am living and working Kathmandu, Nepal. But I’d like to think that I’m staying true to my humanitarian roots. Every day I learn to strike the balance between telling stories and giving people the dignity that they deserve.

About Me.

I’m a professional photographer and multimedia storyteller. I primarily work with nonprofits and international organizations to share their stories. My approach is creating vibrant, honest, and emotional photography.